Molly tied her apron on,
Blue and white, it was;
“I’ll be making muffins,”
Molly said, “because
There’s no more o’ currants
For the little buns”;
“Make us muffins,” ’Lizbeth cries,
“Fluffy yellow ones!”
Sniffing in the baking smell
Brother said to me:
“Think of all the children
Muffinless, for tea!
Esquimos with bear and oil
China boys with rice—
I am glad I live at home;
Muffins are so nice!”
